


Lesson Learned

by frogfarm



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Paradox, Pygmalion, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:36:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Leela learns a (non-smutty) lesson about time travel.Leela POV; post-"The Horror of Fang Rock".





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSigyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSigyn/gifts).



Leela has learned many things in the short time since she began traveling with the Doctor. The first is to always try finding the answers on her own before bothering the Doctor with questions. Partly because, as the Doctor was fond of saying, that was how a person learned on their own; but also because answers from the Doctor tended only to raise more questions.

She can't remember what the second thing was, because there have been so many. One question she hasn't found the answer to, try as she might to map out its innards, is how many rooms there are in the TARDIS. For his part, the Doctor always seems vaguely annoyed at the fact that she never gets lost. Moreso because it's not something she can put into words; Leela just follows her nose, as he once put it -- not literally, he emphasized, seeing her poised to interrupt. Then he smiled and asked where she wanted to go next.

In part it's his blatant attempt at distraction, the treatment of her as though she were a child, that drives her futile exploration of the interior. The newest odd clothes the Doctor has foisted upon her at least have the slight advantage of affording more freedom of movement than the ridiculous tents she'd been forced to contend with while battling the demon Weng-Chiang and his minions. Still, even without a nearby mirror the soft fabrics with their delicate pastel colors, the way they drape and flow about her body, make her feel precisely like what she is: A savage in a costume. 

_You're the very model of a Time Lady,_ the Doctor had said, and beamed, as proud as any father. Leela merely sighed, and smiled, and didn't mention the knife strapped to her ankle, the hidden pouch with its dwindling supply of Janis thorns. 

"Ah!" The Doctor sweeps through the archway, trailing a long and multicolored scarf on the ground behind. His dazzling smile only adds to the effect of the artificial sun, filtered through the vague ceiling far overhead. "I thought I'd find you in the garden."

"I am surprised you found it again." Leela rolls her eyes. "You know I prefer to sleep here."

"Yes, well -- we'll have you addicted to creature comforts yet." He kneels to examine her rudimentary shelter, a slanted structure made of sticks. "Isn't this awfully close to the river?"

"That is barely a stream." Leela manages to keep from souding too scornful. "And it does not matter. It is not really outside."

"It most certainly is," the Doctor snaps as he straightens to his full height -- as always, instinctively offended on behalf of the TARDIS. "Just because it's always the same time of year doesn't mean there's no danger of flooding. Don't tell me you've forgotten our discussion --"

"I have done my best to forget it."

He blinks, taken aback enough to have to process. "But why?"

"Because I did not understand a word of it." She tries to ignore the crestfallen look on his face. "And because I have been thinking of other things."

His mood brightens once more. "Such as?"

She meets his gaze squarely. "I wish to meet myself."

"Ah." One eyebrow rises, brushing the brim of his floppy hat. "Risky business, that. Do everything I can to avoid it."

"But you are not screaming and flailing as you did when I pushed the big red button," Leela points out. "So it is perfectly safe."

"That was my fault for leaving it open." Nonetheless, the Doctor's mutter is at least slightly abashed. Hands clasped behind his back, he stares at the trickle of water wending its way through the grass. It flows from one rock wall to the other, all the way across the relatively large room, made more so by the indeterminate sky or ceiling. Leela remains silent and still, her patience borne from a lifetime of hunting and setting traps.

Her waiting game pays off when he abruptly turns and faces her with a piercing glare. "Why?"

Thrown only for a moment, she discerns his meaning readily enough.

"I wish to give myself some warning. Of what is to come."  


* * *

  
Surprisingly, his first objection is the notorious unreliability of the TARDIS when given specific instructions. Leela had learned very quickly the Doctor's fierce pride in his stolen vehicle ("traveling home", he had corrected her, openly wounded at her phrasing) that extended to an often irrational defense of the "old girl". She's taken aback by this unexpected honesty, but not so much as to miss the increased risk that it signifies.

"Could be tricky," he finally says, stroking his chin with an absent stare.

Leela smiles. "That is a yes."  


* * *

  
He balks when she insists on going alone, but his lackluster protests fall on deaf ears. She settles for allowing him to monitor the situation and intervene if things get out of hand. Her old furs freshly brushed, hair tied in a topknot, she uses a tin of grease to mark the three lines on her left cheek and forehead that signify a long journey with more than one battle.

She's leaning forward in the mirror when she nearly jerks back at the sight of her own eyes, burned from brown to brightest blue by the dying lighthouse of Fang Rock. Leela stares at her reflection, seeing herself through younger (older) eyes.

"She will think I am a demon."

Behind her, the Doctor chuckles. "Have you decided when?"

"The day before we met." She turns and squares her shoulders, standing tall and proud. No matter what else happens, she will bring no shame to her tribe. If nothing else, her younger self will know that she still is, and always will be, a warrior of the Sevateem.

The Doctor's weathered face is unreadable. "Apparently, she thought you'd say that."

"You mean the TARDIS?" Leela blinks, trying to work this out. "Are we --"

He nods at the monitor, its screen bright with familiar colors.

"We're here."  


* * *

  
She pauses with her hand on the door. Over the speaker she can hear squawks and howls, each and every animal a face in her memory.

"It's not too late to change your mind." The Doctor still doesn't sound like they're truly in any danger. Leela shakes her head, and opens the door.

The smells of the jungle envelop her as she exits the TARDIS, hearing the door slide shut behind her. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply through her nose, letting all that air out in a satisfied sigh. Then she takes a good look around, trying to get her bearings. Luckily, the newfound precision of their means of travel has extended to space as well as time; she can see the junction of the main paths, clearly visible through the trees. The village of the Sevateem lies due south from here, a mere morning's journey away.

She melts into the underbrush with a whisper of leaves, moving in a slow circle around the junction. The sun is high overhead, matching her memory. Any moment now --

"Who are you?"

"You're quieter than I remember." She suppresses a smile. "I'm going to turn around. Do not be frightened."

"I am a warrior of the Sevateem." Leela can hear the pride and contempt burn deep in that voice. "I fear nothing. Least of all y--"

Leela holds up both hands, breathing slow and steady. Not ten steps away is an obviously scared, confused and angry younger version of herself, holding out a knife in one trembling hand.

"Don't trust your eyes." Again she fights a smile. "What does your nose tell you?"

Her self pauses, nostrils twitching. Slowly the younger woman moves closer, sniffing the air, and then stops dead in her tracks. Leela can see it in her eyes, the flash of recognition. Certainly still a healthy dose of fear; but of the unknown, now tinged with curiosity and wonder. The knife stops trembling, but remains unsheathed.

"How?"

The word is spoken like a definite challenge. Leela allows herself a very small smile, conveying friendship rather than mockery.

"I am you," she simply says. "Some time from now."

A frown creases the younger woman's brow. "That is not what I --"

"I cannot stay." Leela puts all the urgency she can express into her words, while striving for the calm assurance of an elder.

"Very soon, you will meet a stranger. He will come to you wearing the face of evil, but do not be deceived. He is a good man, and you must put your trust in him. Because he will show you more than you can dream of, and teach you many things." A hint of sadness colors her voice, unable to hide her regret at not being able to stay longer. "Do not try to follow me. But remember these words."

She vanishes once more into the trees, heart pounding like thunder; slipping through the forest, momentarily disoriented until remembering which direction she had come from. She keeps expecting to hear the thump and thud of running behind, hot on her trail, but the only sounds are the hoots and honks of jungle fauna, the swish of her own feet in the tall grass. The TARDIS looms sudden in her vision, and she skids to a panting stop before knocking three times. For a brief panicked moment she thinks she can hear it grind to life, disappearing without her, and then she nearly sobs with relief as the door slides open and she stumbles inside.

"And we're off." The Doctor fiddles with the controls, squinting at the central column as it rises and falls. "Though I'm afraid I can't speak as to where, precisely. Or when."

Leela doesn't respond, slowly regaining her breath as a quiet sense of triumph fills her being. Nobody got killed, the universe did not explode --

"So, how did it go?"

She glances up at him, suspicious on principle. "Were you not watching?"

"Oh, that." He waves his hand. "I mean, what about now?"

Leela frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean --" The Doctor turns away from the console, looking at her expectantly. "Do you feel any different?"

Her frown deepens as she tries to figure out what's wrong. The frustration only grows under his gentle smile, and he seems to take pity on her.

"You don't remember, do you?"

"No." Realization dawns. "But I should! I should most certainly remember! I was there --"

"And that Leela has gone on to have a very different experience." The Doctor smiles and makes a grand gesture with both arms, encompassing the universe at large.

"Congratulations. You've created yet another one of the infinite lines of time." He allows himself an indulgent chuckle. "One of the infinite ways nature has of avoiding paradox."

Her thoughts are a mad jumble as a larger realization unfolds, spilling out and over her tongue. "You tricked me!"

"Oh?" The Doctor frowns, seeming genuinely puzzled. "How so?"

"You knew this would happen!" She can't help an injured note of righteous indignation. "If I had known it would be a waste of time, I would never have --"

The Doctor's eyebrows rise, along with the corners of his mouth. He leans forward, practically quivering in anticipation as he draws a single syllable out into its own sentence.

"Yes?"

Leela gapes at him, floundering in outrage. Untold numbers of thoughts collide inside her head, finally deflating in a muddle of confusion.

"But it is not the same," she manages.

His eyes twinkle with unspoken merriment, refusing to affirm or deny.

"It is not." Leela can feel the old sullen petulance even as she feels ever less sure of herself. But the Doctor's face is kind, with no trace of humor at her expense.

"Well, one thing's the same."

She raises a suspicious eyebrow of her own. "What is that?"

The Doctor grins. "You still learned a valuable lesson."

She turns and walks out of the control room, shaking her head. A hearty chuckle follows her down the hall as she mutters under her breath.

"It is _not_ the same."  


* * *

  



End file.
